


To the moon and back

by donnarafiki



Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, but mind angst first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/pseuds/donnarafiki
Summary: When two parties fight, both are to blame. But what made both Harry and Draco think it was entirely their own fault?





	To the moon and back

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt for the lines  
> 52\. “Go then, leave! See if I care!  
> 101\. “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”  
> 110\. “I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy… it’s with you.”  
> 125\. “I need you to forgive me.”  
> 338\. “Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!”  
> Drarry

Harry fully expected to be met with broken dishes and cracked up photo frames when he entered his apartment that night. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this awful. He and Draco usually made up not more than half an hour after a fight, restraining themselves from physical contact had never been their strong suit, but this time was different. This time Draco had left. Left and not come back.

A soft crack under his auror boots proved he was right about finding the remnants of their argument still littered around his flat. Their torn portrait on the floor, a six months anniversary gift from Dean, proved him right again. He closed his eyes as he walked into the living room. He didn’t want to be right.

It hadn’t been his first proper fight with Draco, far from it even, but it had been their last. He wouldn’t come back. Not after everything Harry had thrown at his head, the insults hurting much more than the plates or mugs. Harry didn’t deserve him coming back.

Another crack under his foot brought him back to the moment just before Draco had stormed out.

**“Go on then, leave! See if I care!”**

_“Don’t think for one second that I will see you caring about anything if I walk out of this hellhole.” His voice was cold and Harry could feel Draco’s eyes burn a hole in his jumper. Even turning his back on the man didn’t work against the Malfoy stare. “I don’t half-ass do things and then quit.”_

_“Oh no? Then what about half dead Katie Bell? Or half poisoned  Ron? Or your half-ass attempt to murder Dumbledore?” Harry was shaking all over now, and his knuckles turned white from gripping the kitchen counter. How_ dare _he. How dare he say anything about commitment. Bloody coward._

_“And then I’m not even mentioning-” He continued._

But Harry never would mention whatever it was he wanted to mention, because right at that moment the unnaturally loud bang of Draco slamming the door shut behind him obliterated all other sounds. When the last of his footsteps died away, Harry could still only think about how that _fucking ponce_ had probably taken the effort to magically amplify the bang.

“Arsehole.” He muttered to no one.

It wasn’t until eleven that morning that the impact of his words fully hit home.

It wasn’t until three that afternoon that Harry knew in every fiber of his being that he regretted what he’d done.

It wasn’t until seven that night that Harry realised he let Draco Malfoy walk out of his life, for good. When the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes hit him, he didn’t even try to hold back. _Fuck_ , he’d screwed up.

A little bit after seven Harry opened his eyes again, cursing loudly because apart from a broken heart he now also had a broken toe. The curses almost caused him to miss the letter that fell off the kitchen table. Almost, but not entirely.

His heart sank as he picked it up and recognized Draco's neat handwriting. He was close to certain it would be a break-up note.

 

_We have never been a perfect couple._

 

A break-up note is was then. With difficulty Harry swallowed and continued reading. He had been the coward who let Draco walk out of his life, he should at least have the balls to hear him out.

 

_But perfect couples don't exist. I learned to fight for myself in a warzone and have never seen a properly functioning relationship between two adults. My parents have never really been an example for a happy marriage, and I believe this is the reason I fight with you the way I do. The only way I know how; like I would die if I didn't win._

_We clash too hard and too often about too many trivial matters because I have no idea how to have a “normal” fight. I never even tried to unlearn my war habits, because I’ve never even acknowledged their existence until now._

_Draco Malfoy not knowing how to fight would be laughable if it wasn't destroying our relationship on a near daily basis (and then I’m not even mentioning the harm you and I do to our dishes)._

 

Harry chuckled despite the tears streaming down his face. _That fucking ponce_ was the only one who could write a humorous break up letter.

 

_I don't believe we don't work together, I don't believe I can’t learn how to fight and I don't believe I will ever be ready to give up on us. But I am starting to see that with the way I handle disagreements, and the fact that I’ve never even attempted to process my war memories, splitting up might be the best option for you. You deserve to be happy, and fighting with me won’t get you there._

_I tried to do it for you Harry. I tried walking away, today with more effort than ever before, but I couldn't. I can't. I will never be an altruistic person. Sometimes I hate how much I love you, but_ **_I just wanted you to know that when I picture myself happy… it’s with you_ ** _._

_Please know that the best moments of my life have been with you. It's selfish of me to hope that these words would mean anything to you, but I can't help it. I suppose that's just who I am._

_Walking out during a fight was childish, so I’ll do the mature thing now and give you some space. Owl me if you're ready for me to come back, otherwise, I am more sorry than I could ever manage to express in words that, with my stupid attempt to ignore everything that happened to me during the war, I failed to make us work._

 

_I love you (to the moon and back),_

 

_Draco_

 

Harry's owl left the flat mere seconds later.

* * *

 

“Did you read-” A mouthful of messy hair stopped Draco from finishing his sentence.

“You fucking idiot.” Harry whispered against his neck, too overwhelmed with emotions to talk out loud. “You catastrophically fucked-up idiotic ponce.”

Harry had jumped in Draco's arms as soon as he saw the blond man tentatively open his apartment door. Now they were pressed against the doorframe, arms wrapped around each other like deadlocks on a safe.

“So you… didn't read it?” Draco sounded puzzled above anything else. He’d gotten Harry's owl. _Come back here right this instance you bloody idiot_ , it had read, so Harry must have…

Or maybe he just wanted him to come back to punch his lights out, and owling had been the most convenient option. But them why was he getting hugged? Or was this just a really bad attempt at choking him to death? It certainly felt like Harry's arms would leave huge bruises on his ribcage tomorrow. If he lived to see tomorrow that was.

“Of course I did.” Harry's grip loosened a bit, and with a shock Draco realised the man was tearing up. “And you blamed it all on yourself and them managed to fucking apologise for being selfish.”

Draco still couldn't quite figure out if he was about to be murdered or kissed. He hoped he'd get kissed. He still thought he'd get murdered. Or Harry might-

“I'm so so sorry for giving you the impression that it’s your fault we keep on fighting all the time, because it isn’t. I promise.” Harry spoke rushed, unable to postpone the moment when Draco would realise his fears were unfounded. He grabbed a handful of Draco’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss.

_A kiss_ , Draco thought with relief, _not murder._

He felt like a dam just burst in his chest, and his knees buckled slightly. Harry pressing him against the doorframe was the only thing that kept him upright as a full body shiver rippled through him. Only now did Draco allow himself to feel just how scared he’d been of losing Harry for good.

But Draco was still scared, he noticed as his head fell sideways to grant Harry access to his favorite spot in the crook of his neck. He was scared Harry didn’t understand the implications of his words, didn’t understand that Draco’s confession about his shortcomings wouldn’t eliminate said shortcomings. Draco was flawed, more than flawed, and excessive amounts of snogging him senseless or shagging him up against a wall wasn’t going to fix any of them.

He didn’t think Harry realised that, because he was the saviour. He saved people singlehandedly, with rash impulsive decisions and difficult but fast solutions. But that wasn’t, and would never be, how you treated PTSD, trauma or childhood abuse. You cannot love mental health issues away, not even Harry Potter could pull that off.

“Harry, we need to talk.” Harry didn’t really seemed interested in talking, he was too busy reclaiming the man he’d thought he’d lost for several horrible hours. Losing people was an all too familiar sensation for him, and he hated it more than anything else.

“Harry, we can’t-, I can’t go back to the way things were.” _I can’t go back to being the casual fling you need me to be._ Draco hated himself as he felt Harry freeze, hated how Harry released him from his deadlock hug to look at him with those big beautiful green eyes, now filled with bewilderment and fear. Hated how he knew that as soon as Draco told him the full extend of his problems, Harry would still leave him, like he ought to have done in the first place anyway.

“I need help.” Despite the lack of strong arms around his ribcage, Draco still felt unable to breathe properly, and he couldn’t talk any further. It felt weird, finally saying out loud what he’d thought about for months now. But it didn’t brought the relief Draco’d thought it would, it only brought more fear.

“Then let me help you. Please, Draco. We’re in this thing together.” He lightly kissed Draco’s forehead, a spot he could only reach because Draco was slowly gliding down the wall towards the floor. Harry decided to let it happen, and sat down next to him, pulling the man half into his lap.

“Not that kind of help, Harry. You’re not a shrink.” Draco eventually managed to say. Harry was now lightly massaging his shoulder blades, and with every stroke of his fingers Draco felt more guilt rise up in his chest. It seemed he only ever managed to bring the man more pain.

“I _know_ that we fight so much because I don’t know how to handle this. _Us_ .” Draco stared at the blank wall in front of him, as he tried very hard to steer his voice away from trembling. “It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. I allowed my father’s prejudice to ruin my school career, allowed it to turn me into a biased prick and _I liked it_. I liked getting under people’s skin, see them react, witness their hurt and fear.” Draco shifted until he was sitting next to Harry. He couldn’t bare the feeling of Harry’s chest clenching with every confession he made, and the cold tiles of the hallway kept him from losing his grip on the world.

“But when I was forced to get marked, I saw _real_ hurt, and _real_ pain, and I hated that. I hated it so much that I had to numb my own gag reflex, otherwise I’d get sick every time someone looked at me with contempt, every time people saw me as the spineless _arsehole_ I was.” Draco sounded bitter, and he spat out the words like the saliva was aimed at his own face.

“I can count the moments I dropped my occlumency guards during seventh year on one hand. I retreated so far back into myself that I felt like I didn’t even exist anymore at one point. Just an empty, brain dead shell without thoughts, emotions or nightmares about anything.” Draco paused then, and grabbed one of Harry’s hands to steady himself as he tried very hard not to start hyperventilating. For once, Harry stayed silent. The only thing he did was shift a little and plant a soft kiss on Draco’s shoulder, before resting his head against it.

“And then you came along, caught by Fenrir, your face all swollen yet still very distinctively _you._ Seeing you didn’t feel like coming up for air, it felt like seeing daylight again after being locked up in a cold and dusty cellar for months, knowing that you still had to run through the woods for ages in order to reach safety, knowing that the odds of reaching safety were against you. But at least now there _were_ odds. There was a chance, a very tiny chance, that I could survive the war. I hadn’t even considered it up until that point, but when I did I got a little bit of hope back for the first time in months.” Draco’s throat had gone dry from all the talking, but he didn’t stop. Even if he’d wanted to, he didn’t think he could.

“I got to my room that night and dropped my wards a little, expecting to feel the hopeful spark again that way.” Draco let out a deep sigh. “I felt nothing. I couldn’t drop my wards, I was trapped inside my own head unable to feel anything but some sort of blind panic. I still struggle with my wards now, and I’ve never been able to keep them down as we fight. I think that’s why I always sound so cold and distant.”

Draco took another deep, unsteady breath. He couldn’t help but feel like his words were just a cheap excuse for his awful behaviour, like he was simply blaming everything on the war, refusing to do anything about his issues because they were caused by something out of his control, so the healing process would be out of his control too.

“If you told all of this to strangers, even the dumbest one among them would see that our troubles come from my side and not yours. It’s simple logic. You are the glorious war hero and I’m the fucked up ex-terrorist. Me thinking we could ever work is probably the biggest indicator that I’ve gone crazy.” Draco released Harry’s hand to push his hair out of his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” Harry brushed his thumb across Draco’s now reddened cheek, his voice sounding just as hurt as Draco thought it would, before trying to pull him in for a kiss. Uncharacteristically, Draco refused.

“Because you have your own mess to deal with, and you do that brilliantly like you do everything brilliantly while I’m being the stupid fuckwit who pretended to be fine for the past five years even though I wasn’t. Everyone moved on Harry, everyone is already halfway through their grief and trauma processing while I haven’t even started mine yet. I might not be altruistic, but I’m not a bad person either, so I can’t possibly ask you to go through everything again just because I stuck my head in the sand, especially not since I keep getting us into downright cruel fights.”

Harry chuckled, and if Draco was being honest it didn’t even surprise him. It was the most laughable decision he’d ever made, thinking he could cope with his mental health issues by just ignoring them for long enough. And now Harry would laugh and slam the door in his face, just as he should have done when Draco had turned up on his doorstep nearly two years ago.

“You think I’m halfway through processing my trauma’s? Through processing the loss of my parents, my godfather, my childhood?” Harry laughed a little again, but there was no humour in it. “I _died_ Draco. I literally died during the battle of Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ll ever be halfway through digesting that. The moment I stopped waking up screaming from nightmares and flashbacks was the moment you started sleeping in my bed, and the moment I stop seeing a therapist is the moment you can officially declare me dead for the second time.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand again, and pressed it against his lips, hard. “It would be bloody hypocritical of me if I’d judge you for wanting to see a shrink, don’t you think?”

“I think I should leave.” Draco whispered, so softly Harry thought he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“And I think you should see a therapist to help you cope with the war, and stop trying to blame every bump in this relationship on yourself. Who’s more likely to fuck up relationships? The ex-terrorist with shitty parents or the ex-deceased orphan who was raised in a cupboard?” Harry smiled at Draco, and his emerald eyes held a shimmer of hope and _love_ in them. A shimmer more intense than the Malfoy stare ever could be. If Draco hadn’t been so persistently refusing to look at him, he might have seen that Harry wouldn’t ever give up on them either.

But Draco did refuse to look at Harry. He drew his knees up to his chin and hugged his shins. Harry, stubborn as ever, moved over to mimick Draco’s body on the other side of the tiny hallway, making the toes of their shoes touch.

They were silent for a while then. Harry hoped that giving Draco some time to process all off this might stop their conversation from turning into an argument. As far as he could remember this was the first time a serious conversation had lasted this long without Draco pulling up his walls, or Harry throwing dishes at him.

“I still believe what I said when I woke up to you standing in my kitchen that first morning.” Harry sighed eventually, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Draco looked up, slowly. He knew what Harry was doing. The man tried to let Draco think of how their first nights had been together, reminding him of the blissful happiness from those early weeks, before they started fighting. **“I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”** He whispered.

“Or at the very least, you’re less terrible than Zacharias Smith, who stole my Radiohead records on his way out.” Draco chuckled a little as Harry completed the quote. The first words he’d uttered after finding Draco baking eggs in his kitchen during the aftermath of their first one night stand.

“Less terrible than Smith, you must be in a generous mood.” Harry snorted as Draco managed to recreate his haughty tone perfectly.

“No, I just hope we can date for a while, since valentine’s day is in a month and I’d really like my Radiohead records back.”

“I gave you their entire discography the next day.” Draco sighed and suddenly his face fell. “So I guess ‘a while’ is over now.”

“What makes you think that?” Harry’s head snapped up. He was unpleasantly surprised to hear that Draco still seemed to think he wasn’t welcome anymore.

“Because I’m all work and no play.” Draco looked at his fingernails as he said that, again refusing to look at Harry. “I realise that I can’t outrun my demons now, but that means I need to stop fleeing and let them approach me, attack me, and it’s going to be fucking hard not to let them win. You shouldn’t- no, you don’t _deserve_ see that fight again.”

“Because seeing someone beat demons bloody simular to my own really is going to be another nail in my coffin, and not at all a living and breathing reminder that I can live through this and be happy despite my far-from-perfect mental state.” Harry scooted over to Draco until his knee was pressed sort-of-awkwardly against his chest. Then, deciding this position was too uncomfortable for a conversation like this, Harry scrambled to his feet and offered Draco his hand. The man on the floor looked up briefly, before taking the offer and standing up.

“No one said I would beat them.” Draco’s voice was soft, and on the edge of cracking. Despite being two inches taller than Harry, he managed to look at him through his eyelashes. “And I’ll be focussed on fighting them instead of keeping the peace with you, and I’ll hurt you again just as I made you say those things this morning.” Draco lifted his head and let his eyes bore into Harry’s, making sure he wouldn’t interrupt, and would understand the sincerity behind his words.

“I know you want to say now that you didn’t mean them, but it would be foolish not to mean the truth. I know what I did, and though I haven’t come to terms with it yet that doesn’t mean I’ll deny what happened. I’m scared of the road that lies ahead, but I’m more scared of what that fear will do to you.”

Harry opened his mouth in protest. “Draco-”

But Draco didn’t give him any room to talk, and even talked quicker himself now. “So far fear caused me to nearly murder your friends, try and cast _crucio_ on you, ruin the nice life you had before I turned up on your doorstep. My fear hurts others more than me, I know that. And I just think it’s for the best if I-”

This time Harry didn’t wait until Draco would give him the time to speak, he just spoke. “Shut up Draco. Just shut up.” The stubbornness in his voice hung nearly tangible in the air. “When I entered my, no _our_ apartment this evening I didn’t think I’d find you here, because I was sure you’d never want to see me again after all the awful things I said. _That I said_. That was my choice, and in no way caused by you being cold and distant.” Draco didn’t believe him, and opened his mouth to tell him exactly that. But now it was Harry who did not to grant him permission to speak.

“Okay, I’ll admit. The way you refuse to yell at me, and instead just fucking _stare_ at me all the time creeps me the fuck out, and that definitely doesn’t make me more likely to shut up when I should. Still, that’s my choice and not yours, especially when you don’t even know _how_ to drop your wards during a fight. I never invited you to move in here, but you still did and it was you who decided to make breakfast, you who always knows when not to ask stupid questions but instead just give me a hug, you who just _knows_ what to do and how to do it.” Harry was slightly out of breath now, but he was on a roll that Draco would have to pry from his cold dead hands before he’d let it go.

“I won’t deny that at the start of all this I let you stay because I was lonely, and you were not as big an inconvenience as you used to be. Still, I let that sentiment go quite a while back and I thank the heavens for that decision every day.” Harry was leaning against Draco again, but his weight was more loving and less desperate than before.

“You needn’t think that your problems from the war would make me change my mind. You stopped being a casual fling to me months ago, and in retrospect I should have told you that, just as maybe you should have told me that you don’t wake up screaming from nightmares because you’re repressing all your war memories, instead of leaving me in the illusion that you’ve conquered them. But perfect couples don’t exist, remember? And I don’t believe I’ll ever be ready to give up on us.”

“Plagiarism.” Draco murmured from where he was hidden in Harry’s hair.

“Nah.” Harry responded, “just a quote from a very inspirational war veteran with a perfect arse and a maybe slightly less perfect judgement.”

“You’re an idiot for wanting to go through this with me, you know that right?” Draco still couldn’t fully wrap his head around the fact that Harry apparently wanted him to stay, even after he’d learned that Draco was still at the very beginning of his healing process. There would be many sleepless nights, bad days and even more fights ahead of them, and all of that could be spared from Harry if only he did the sensible thing and kick him out.  

“I’m afraid I don’t, and **I need you to forgive me** for that **.** ” Harry kissed Draco’s neck again, and gave a playful bite in his collarbone. “I need you to stick around, with all your flaws and issues and your stupid pointy face, so you can remind me of my idiocy every day.”

“If that’s what you-”

“That _is_ what I-.” Harry’s stomach saw an opportunity and grumbled loudly. “ **Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to ~~you~~** Draco!”

Draco couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he saw Harry aim an impossibly annoyed glare at his belly, frustrated by the completely ruined moment.Then he leaned in to whisper _‘There’s a pizza in the fridge’_ in Harry’s ear.  

“I love you Draco.” Harry rewarded him with a soft nip at his bottom lip.

“Love you too Harry.” He paused for a second. “I love you to the moon and back.”

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a mess, sorry for that  
> If anyone's interested I'll write a second part in which Draco reads "guess how much I love you?" to Harry bc Harry never got bedtime stories read to him as a kid. I didn't include that here because it's a little too cheesy for Draco really, so it wouldn't really fit canon Draco? But then PTSD is known for bringing along character changes so he could do it, but I'll say it again, only if anyone wants me to. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always much appreciated! <3


End file.
